Day Off
by Kasorin
Summary: Jules finally gets a day off when the banks aren't closed, and can deal with business. Yet nothing is simple, not even a walk to the bank. Ordering new checks quickly turns deadly for this member of the SRU. Can the team get her out before the man reaches his flashpoint? Rated T for violence and blood.
1. Business as usual

**A/N: **I do not own FlashPoint or its characters. I just have fun tormenting them and putting them in different situations. In this case, Jules. The chapters will be short pieces, cut for the best cliffhangers.

* * *

For the first time in weeks, I had a day off that coincide with a business day. That it wasn't a bank holiday made it even better, I only had three checks left in my position and hated ordering them online. Banking online was also something that I tried to avoid, there were more records when I wrote the checks. I could get normal tasks done, and forget for a while what I dealt with every other day of the week.

It was a beautiful morning in late spring. The weather was warm for Toronto. Usually there was a cold snap this time of year. But I was taking full advantage of the early shoulder weather and to soak up as much of the sun as I could. When out on calls with the team, I was always fully covered up, and I spent so much of the rest of my life training inside, or training in the body armour that the last time I had seen my family, they had been worried about anemia.

Even though Toronto didn't get as cold in the winter as did the more northern territories, I still welcomed the coming of spring and packing away my bulky turtlenecks. Spring was the best season, in my opinion. Not too hot to make the body armour uncomfortable for prolonged periods lying on a roof somewhere, and no longer needing the thick coats and sweaters was wonderful.

The bank was only a four block walk away from my condo, and I thought nothing of walking. It gave me more time to relax in the sun, and I got fresh air, and more of the alone time I sometimes coveted. It would of course be more helpful if there were girls that I could connect with, I spent way to much time with men for my liking.

I didn't expect on being gone that long – thirty or forty minutes at most so I left my gun locked up in my condo. All I needed for the bank run was my badge, keys, and cell phone. Even though I would leave my gun behind sometimes, I never was far from my phone. If Serg called me into a delicate situation, I would need it. It would be a short run back to my apartment to grab my gun and trunk so I could get to the spot, if they brought my suit for me. That had happened once or twice before, though I always gave Serg grief for calling me in on my day off.

I slipped into line at the bank. For nearly midday on a Monday, it was fairly empty. Only two tellers stood behind the polished wood counter. But that was something that I liked about the bank, it's personal touches and the fact that the restrooms were open for bank members to use if needed. I had only been to them once, when it was really crowded. My eyes floated over the lobby, taking in each person waiting to complete their business before heading to lunch, or going back to their shopping. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, except for some man wearing a black trenchcoat. It had been chillier in the morning, so maybe he didn't plan ahead.

Then again, it was Toronto, and could start raining at the drop of a hat this time of the year. I moved my eyes back to the counter, and stepped forward, reaching for my identification.

Three shots rang out behind me, followed instantly by screams. I refused to even try to understand why shots fired was instant reason to scream.

I dropped to the ground and reached automatically for the gun that I didn't have. Of course, it just happened that the one time that I went out without my gun was the time that I actually needed it. Sighing in frustration, I surveyed the room. The man in the trench coat I had noticed had a gun over his head, shouting at everyone to get onto the ground. While he was distracted, I eased my phone out of my pocket to text Winnie.

_At bank on SE corner of 5__th__ Ave and Walnut. One gunman, 7 hostages. Shots fired. Send the team, but please don't let them know I'm a hostage._

A moment later, a text came back. _Sending them. Demands?_

_None yet, but I suspect money._ I slid my phone into my pocket, pressing the button on the side to lock the screen.

The gunman stormed towards me. "What are you doing?" He shoved the gun in my face. "Who're you calling?"

"No one!" I faked a squeak, and forced myself to make my voice shake. "I was just checking the time. I have a lunch date."

"Give me all your cell phones!" He screamed, the gun still pointed at me. "Throw them on the ground. You, behind there, get out here!" The gun swung away from me, and towards the tellers.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Shoulder season is a term that my friend from Toronto taught me. It's that time of year when you no longer need the thick coats and sweaters, and can maybe risk wear lighter weight clothing. Hopefully that clears up questions if Jules didn't explain it well enough.


	2. Calculated Risk

Taking a breath, I calculated the risk of disarming him. Sure, I'd gotten Winnie to call out Serg and the team, and they could handle the situation on their own. With seven hostages, all terrified, going for the gun was too great of a risk. Even though I was confident I could get the gun away from him, I didn't want it going off accidently and shooting one of the hostages. He didn't look nearly as big or strong as Serg, and I could get the plastic gun away from him without too much difficulty, and Serg knew how to not get a gun taken away from him.

Beethoven's Fifth came blaring from the pile of cell phones in the center of the lobby. I tried not to look at the pile, knowing that it was my ring tone, the one I had set for people on the team. Someone was calling me, probably for the call I had put into Winnie.

There had been one point when Sam had teased me about using that ring tone for the team, since the beginning sounded so ominous. That had quit once I had punched him hard enough in the arm for it to bruise. And since the rest of the team had seen the punch and resulting bruise, that had led them to tease Sam for at least a week.

My phone stopped ringing, and a minute later beeped to tell me that Serg had left a message.

The gunman acted like he hadn't heard my phone go off, forcing people to sit in a line along the counter, with our hands on our heads. I remembered that the windows in the bathroom were big enough for me to slip through, if I could get them open and kick out the screen without being noticed. Deciding that I would risk it, I rose up a few inches.

"Um, you know," I started, causing the gunman to whirl on me. "I really, really have to go to the bathroom, is there any way that I could-"

"Shut up!" Came another screamed order, followed by a shot.

I looked down at my arm in half-interest and watched blood ooze down it, spilling from where the bullet had grazed me. The bullet had lodged itself into the counter next to me, though that didn't change that the woman next to me was now crying hysterically.

"I'm fine," I whispered, sinking back down. "Do you have a handkerchief or something? For my arm?"

She dug in her pocket and pulled out a neatly folded square of pink cloth. Murmuring my thanks, I tied it over the wound, yanking it snug with my teeth. I returned my hands to my head, wondering what sor of effect that position would have on the bleeding.

My phone rang again, and the man scattered the phones, looking for which one was ringing. He stomped on it, smashing the screen and cutting off the ring halfway through. I resisted the urge to call out, I had just gotten used to the controls of the smartphone, and my cell phone company probably didn't cover sociopaths with guns stomping on it under their replacement policy.

I could finally hear sirens approaching. Five minutes from when I'd called Winnie. Not bad, for Team One. Though, I would have liked it if they had gotten there faster. To distract myself from the gun, I went over the procedure that they were going to use.

Serg would have Spike hack into the video feeds so they could get in ears and eyes. Ed would be the Serria One, perched up high somewhere while waiting for the Scorpio order. Wordy and Sam would be sent around to the back of the building to try to find another way to get in. Serg himself would be out front with the Uni's calling in to make sure all the hostages were safe and to find a way to negotiate us to safety.

It would be made harder if the gunman would pull the blinds, and lock the doors. Then he'd have to shut off the CCTV cameras somehow, so Spike couldn't get eyes in. Ears were nearly impossible with the standard CCTV system. I flicked my eyes up to the cameras and sighed when I saw that each one pointed at the lobby had been shot out. So much for getting in eyes.

A kill shot from Ed could come through the doors since the blinds weren't drawn. I knew the bank wasn't some sort of high security location with bullet proof glass. From what I could tell, the gunman didn't seem to be too smart beyond the shooting of the cameras. The call would probably be fairly easy, and then I could maybe slip away before the team could realize that I had been shot. Though, I would probably need stitches. It seemed like it would be a cakewalk.

The phone rang, and the man shouted at people to close the blinds.

So much for cake.

_Cake would taste good around now_. I thought. _Or just a bit of pastry soaked in honey._ Frowning, I forced the thoughts out of my head and tried not to concentrate on my stomach.


	3. Textbook negotiation

The phone went silent. It would be a minute or two before Serg hit redial. Then, again it would ring if it was still not answered.

Sure enough, it rang again, and the gunman ordered the cryer next to me to answer it.

"Hello?" She whispered. "I'm Judy… He, he has a gun… He shot someone." Her voice cracked.

The man glared at her and pressed the gun against her head. "Tell him that I want 500,000 in two hours. Or I start shooting."

Judy repeated the message, her voice shaking the entire time, and the man yanked the phone away from her, slamming into place. She rejoined me and pressed her face into her hands, her shoulders shaking. Not much was resolved, of course.

Next Serg would call again and try to bargin with the man. Get more time, get him to send me out as a sign of good faith. Serg would lead with some sort of ploy to begin that negotiation – how he wanted the money, if he wanted a car or a helicopter. If the good faith gesture didn't work, and more threats were made, Spike would probably play with the heating to make things uncomfortable.

Even though it was shoulder weather, it was barely that, and was still not warm enough for the AC to be on. The heat was probably still on, though set lower today because of the weather. All Spike would have to do would be to raise it up a few notches, and it'd kick in. A little higher than that, and it would make the bank lobby be boiling. I knew the bank, and how stuffy it could get when the windows weren't cracked. The man was wearing a long overcoat, it would make him much warmer.

Sure enough, the phone rang again. I stayed silent, and calm listening to Judy's side of the conversation, and what she related to the gunman. It was just how I had assumed – try to get me out of there, find out how he wanted the money. Serg was going with the textbook on this one. Though considering how long he'd been in the SRU, he had probably written the textbook.

I was beginning to loose the feeling in my fingertips, I realized half an hour later. Just a light buzz, like a foot that is just beining to fall asleep. While the man was distracted by yet another phone call from Serg, I loosened the tie on the cloth, the tingling didn't seem to be coming from blood loss, just how tight I had made the tourniquet. Even though I was certain of that, there was no way that I was going to completely remove the cloth and let my arm bleed freely.

Scott had taught me enough about blood loss when I had been dating him that I really didn't want to deal with it.

"NO!" Screamed the gunman. He had the phone now. "No one comes in, no one goes out! One hour!" He slammed the phone down and yanked it out of the wall.

"You know," I said dryly, no longer faking fear. "They probably have a sniper on the roof with a gun trained on you."

"What do you know?" He whirled on me.

"My father was a cop. He worked hostage negotiation in the days before CCTV." I shrugged, and regretted it for the sake of my arm.

"Shut up! Just shut up or the next one goes in your head!"

I didn't doubt the gunman's aim ability. He had after all shot the cameras out. Though he had probably been aiming at the wall next to me or my shoulder when he'd grazed me. Ignoring his threats, I moved one hand to grip the graze, feeling the blood ooze between my fingers. Already, I could feel the temperature rising.

Textbook negotiation.

By the time the deadline was almost on us, my back was sticky with sweat, and my tailbone had gone numb. It was nearly silent in the bank, the only sounds were the occasional whir of the heating system and the dripping of my blood as it splashed into the puddle between Judy and I. Yet again, I found myself wishing that I hadn't left my gun at home. This would have been over ages ago if I had. Flashing my badge and gun, and he would've surrendered.

Or killed me.

Yet it did surprise me that he hadn't demanded ID to go with the cell phones. I also knew that the man was probably a customer at the bank – he seemed to know where the cameras were before coming in there. According to Judy, the bank never kept more than a thousand up at the counter, and just over ten thousand down in the vault at any one time. The manager who had the codes wasn't in on Monday's anyway. Which was another thing that pointed to the man's prior knowledge of the bank – he hadn't demanded money from the tellers.


	4. Escalation

When the window came and went, the man yanked me to my feet and forced me into the center of the lobby. I lifted both hands now, annoyed that I couldn't keep pressure on my arm. Though if he were to shoot me where I knelt, a little more blood oozing out of the graze didn't make that much of a difference.

I considered springing into action when the gun was removed from my head. A kick to the groin, a blow to the back of the head would incapacitate him long enough for me to get the gun. Maybe even long enough to get his hands tied together, and haul him out for the team to deal with. Then all I'd need was a trip to the hospital for a few stitches, and I could be back at HQ in no time. Particularly if I didn't tell Serg how bad the wound on my arm was.

I took too long thinking, and the man clipped something heavy around my neck. Dread sunk into the pit of my stomach – I didn't need him telling me what it was to know. A necklace bomb, proably similar to the one that I had dealt with more than two years ago on the night that Sam had first kissed me. I still felt like it was my fault for what had happened that night. Taking a breath, I waited for his orders.

"Stand up."

I did as I was told. The man probably had military training, to get such a good shot to the cameras. Maybe bomb expertise too, to be able to carry around a necklace bomb without worrying that it would go off if he moved wrong.

"You are going to go out there. You are going to talk to this 'Greg'. You are going to tell him that he has until 4pm to get me one million in twenties and fifties, into a car with a full tank of petrol. No trackers or anything sneaky like that. If he follows, or doesn't compley…"

"You blow my head off." I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Why had I left my gun at home?

"Exactly. And each quarter hour beyond that, I kill one of them." He nodded to the other hostages and arranged a scarf around the bomb.

I wondered what would happen if he ran out of hostages. 4pm was only an hour and a half away.

I walked as calmly to the door as I could, and waited for Judy to open it. The two steps that led down to the street level would be more tricky, I didn't know how sensitive the bomb was now that it was connected. Getting to Serg without the police stopping me or noticing how thick of a scarf I had on might also be tricky.

Then again, the Uni's were so often dense, I doubted that they would actually notice.

Taking a breath, I stepped outside with both hands raised and made my way down the stairs. Ducking hands of the Uni's and their guns, I beelined for the van and shook my head at Serg, begging him silently not to say my name. He swallowed visible, and the concern faded from his face.

"Did he send you with a message?" He asked, getting the message.

"Yes sir. 4pm, 1 million unmarked. 20's and 50's in a car with a full tank, and one that doesn't have any sort of GPS thing. If you don't…" I unwound the scarf. "He'll detonate this."

The scarf fell away and Serg turned his back, pressing both hands against his helmet. A classic Serg position, when he tried not to show us how upset the turn of events had just made him, weather it be a hostage getting shot or the revelation that an explosive device was being used. At least being outside, there were not tables for him to slam.

Serg turned back towards me and took a breath. "Spike, jam all cell phone signals within a six block radius." He said into the headset. "Then get behind the van with your kit. We've got a code black."

I imagined the rest of the team's reaction to the code black. Explosive device with immenite threat to one or more lives. It would change the entire tactile situation, how each thing was done. Sam and Wordy would be holding off, not wanting any breeching to set off the device. Ed wouldn't take the shot even if he had the solution if the detonator was in view. No one would risk a possible dead man's switch, particularly without knowing the logistics of the device.

Though because Serg had called Spike to the far side of the van with his kit, they would know the bomb was outside, not in. Which would make it a much higher threat to the first responders on the scene. Even so, bomb squad was probably on their way.

Serg turned to several of the Uni's on the way to the meeting spot. "Let's see about meeting his demands. I'm not about to let him set off this bomb." He removed the ear piece and added in a hushed voice. "She's one of ours, and I am not about to lose my best shot." After demanding that they not reveal my identity, he put back on the ear piece and helped me onto the waiting gurney.


	5. What's your status?

Spike came around then, and shock registered on his face. I held up a hand, palm facing him, all fingers straight and pointed to my ear. Shaking my head slowly, I lowered both hands. A moment later, Spike nodded and approached, no longer saying the name that he had been about to. Mine. I knew that if the team knew I was the one with the bomb around my neck, that would change everything. And if Sam knew, it would be even worse. Even though we were no longer dating, he still could be so overprotective of me.

Scott was the EMS on call. He did his best not to say anything as he removed my homemade tourniquet and started to clean the graze. Spike set up the portable x-ray device and scanned the necklace, and slowly lowered the device. He held up what looked like a regular stethoscope to it, signaling everyone to be silent. Once he stepped back, Scott went to work stitching my arm shut, still not saying anything.

"I'm fine, Scott. Made sure to control the bleeding, and even put pressure on it with my other hand. I had to loosen the tourniquet once, I was loosing feeling in my hand."

"I don't care." He murmured, pressing a wad of gauze over the stitches and wrapping a bandage around it.

I tried not to think about the weight around my neck and what it meant. Fear had coiled its way around my stomach, and if I didn't force the thoughts out of my mind, I was certain I would cry. Serg had only seen me cry once, and that was with sheer joy when he told me I'd be on Team One. No one else had ever seen such a reaction out of me.

"Got the x-ray." Spike said, holding it out for Serg and me to see. "Looks like a small one, smaller than the one from the Eagle Two thing a few years ago. It's a shape charge with blasting cap, and seems like the only way to detonate is with a remote. Though a cell phone signal could probably set it off too. If we assume that he plans to detonate it from inside of the building, then it must have a range of at least a hundred yards or so. I'm going to study the xrays a bit more, but I think I should be able to cut the wires and get it off of you without a problem."

I nodded, no longer able to suppress the tears. They slid down my cheeks in silence, and Spike tapped my nose. Worry filled the eyes of both men, and if Scott had been nearby he'd have probably been worried too. Even Scott hadn't seen me cry.

"Hey, none of that. Crying might short circuit the wires and blow your head off." Spike gave me one of his crazy grins and wiped the tears from my face.

I drew in a breath, and willed myself to stop. It had already been a half hour. Only sixty more minutes, and there was no sign that the ransom demands would even be attempted to be met. Small bills in that large of quantity took much longer than 90 minutes to gather, and the Uni's didn't seem like they even wanted to comply with Serg.

"Serria One, what's your status?" Serg asked, and paused to listen to Ed. "Serria One, stand by. Let's get the bomb contained first. Can't risk a dead man's."

I imagined Ed's voice _roger that, Serg_. He'd still be in position, maybe on the roof of the bank now that the blinds were closed, pointing his rifle at the man through the skylight. His finger would be on the trigger, his eye to the sight, just waiting for the Scorpio order, and to have a clear shot.


	6. Situation contained

When there were only ten minutes left, and still no progress had been made on the ransom, Serg and Spike got me up off of the gurney and over to a nearby subway entrance. They helped me to sit on the top step, and Spike set his bag and the metal box next to him, kneeling one step below me. I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. It seemed to me like the getting the bomb off thing could have been taken care of as soon as bomb squad had arrived. Spike had insisted that he be the one to remove it, and then hand it over to them. But why did they wait so long?

I knew the ransom wasn't going to be gathered, if the Uni's were even making effort. No one wants to pay a ransom in a hostage situation, even one with a bomb. The SRU hardly ever complied to demands, only rarely letting people get what they wanted if it was thought that we could get them contained better that way. Spike had even confirmed that he could have gotten the car to short out just a block or two away from the bank without any trouble at all.

"Serg, you don't need to stay." Spike said, pulling out his wire cutters.

"Yes, well, I just thought that I'd comfort our girl here. Some people like a father figure in times or crises."

If Spike didn't have the wire cutters inches from the bomb, and if I had known I could get away with it, I would have hit Serg for that. Playfully, not with an intent to injure him, and certainly not as hard as I had hit during training sessions, but I still would have struck. Instead, I settled for squeezing his hand and trying to squash the rising panic. Spike was an expert at this, he could get it off in a matter of seconds, without needed to wear the bulky suits of the bomb squad.

Both wires were clipped, and Spike eased the pin out of the join. He carefully slid the necklace off my neck and into his box, closing the lid tightly. Only then did the three of us breath, letting out a collective breath.

"Will that thing protect us if the bomb does go off?" My voice shook more than it had when I faked fear inside the bank.

Serg helped me to my feet and we walked back over to the van, where Spike handed off the bomb to Bomb Squad without even answering. That itself was answer enough – he had clipped the wires that would set if off if he removed the pin, but it was still active, and still a danger.

I shrugged off both men's attempts to get me to go to the hospital, insisting that I was fine now that the bomb was gone. Eventually, Serg relinquished, and ordered me to stay in the van with Spike. That was an order that I was fine with following – being outside the van with body armour felt too unprotected. I was an SRU constable. I was supposed to be suited up and ready to shoot the gunman if it came to that.

_Serria One_. Serg's call typed itself onto the computer screen. _Code black is clear. You have the Scorpio._


	7. Resolution

The bomb squad's van exploded. Spike yanked me out of my seat and out into the street, shielding me with his body. Flames engulfed the van, and two of the technicians lay on the pavement just outside of it. EMS was already running over to them, bags on their shoulders. The time limit was up.

"Get her back inside!" Serg ordered. "I can't have him seeing that we got the collar off without submitting to the demands."

Spike pushed me back into the van, asking if they needed him out there. When Serg gave him the negative, he joined me inside and sat back down. I took a breath and wiped my hands against my jeans.

_I have the solution. _Ed's words printed themselves on the screen. _I have the solution, he is holding the gun to a woman's head._

_Take it._ Serg ordered.

The crack of a single bullet being fired split the air. I waited a moment, holding my breath again.

_Situation is contained. I repeat, situation is contained. _Ed's words came with a wave of relief.

Serg let me out of the van after that, and I asked one of the officers to bring my smashed phone to me. Hopefully, I could convince the company to replace it with no charge, since I hadn't been the one to smash it. I waited with Serg and Spike as the hostages ran out of the building, and as Wordy, Sam and Ed approached us now that the hostages were free.

Wordy and Ed did little more than to raise an eyebrow when they saw me standing there. In all reality, Ed had probably looked at us through the scope of his rifle when the code black had been called. Sam's face, however, went from it's usual post-situation calm to worry and on to panic in seconds.

"Jules, what are you doing here?"

"It's such a lovely day out. I thought that I would go for a stroll, and happened across Serg. He called me, but I left my phone at home today." I shrugged, and tried not to wince at the pull of my stitches.

"You're covered in blood." Sam pointed out.

"Correction. Splattered. More than half of my clothes are blood free. Besides, there was an explosion, didn't you hear it? Besides, blood's easier to get out of jeans than it is to get out of the cool pants."

"Jules…" Sam's voice cracked. "Seriously, what's going on?"

The officer came back and handed me an unmarked evidence bag with my phone in it. I nodded my thanks, and wrapped the bag around the phone before cramming it into my pocket. Sam grabbed my arm and held it tightly, his eyes searching my face.

"You were the code black, weren't you?"

The tears started again. Adrenalin had carried me through the last 90 minutes, but with it draining from my body, I couldn't control them. Crying before would have made things worse, but now that the situation was contained, and I was facing the part of my team that hadn't known, it made it that much harder. And once the first tear slid its way down my cheek, I couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

Sam wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight against him. I kept my arms by my sides. Crying in front of the team was bad enough, clinging to Sam would only make it worse. There was no way that I wanted Serg to think that Sam and I were dating, or that I wasn't fit to do my job. I couldn't risk one of use being forced off the team. Team One was the place I had strived to be since joining the SRU.

"I'm fine, Sam." I croaked into his vest and pulled back. "Serg, do you need me at debriefing, or can someone give me a ride home?" I wiped the tears away firmly."

"Don't you live like four blocks from here?" Sam asked.

"So?" I snapped and ran a hand through my hair.

"I'd like you at the debriefing. You'll be able to add to what happened leading up to the call. Besides, you were the one who let Winnie know, weren't you?"

I nodded and climbed into one of the SUV's and closed my eyes for the ride to HQ. The rest of the team filed silently into the room we used for meetings and debriefing, each taking their usual seat. Sam couldn't take his eyes off of me.

"Jules?" Serg asked, and I looked at him. "Why don't you tell us how this thing got started, from when you got to the bank to when we arrived."


	8. Debrief

I swallowed. "I walked there, with just my badge, keys, and cell phone, leaving my gun at home." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ed cringe. "I thought it would be in, and out, and I'd have the new checkbooks ordered. Kept an eye out behind me for anything suspicious, and made it up to the counter. The gunman fired three shots, taking out the video cameras. That's when I texted Winnie about the situation. I asked her not to tell you guys so you'd be able to focus on containing the situation without worrying that I'd get shot or something.

"He took our phones, and I tried to get him to let me go to the restroom. The women's at that branch has these really big windows that can be opened, and ancient looking screens. I knew I'd be able to get out and loop around the front of the building to meet you guys. That's when he shot me. I think he was just trying to scare me – the bullet only grazed me. Serg, you called after that, both times. He smashed my phone after the second. That's around when I noticed that he'd shot out the cameras. I got the woman next to me, Judy, to give me something from her purse to tie around my arm. That's when you guys got there."

Serg went on to complete the debriefing, and I tuned him out. Normally, I focused much more on his words, but all I wanted to do was to go home and to do nothing. Maybe a bit of an early dinner, and then going to bed much earlier than I normally did. Or perhaps I should give into Serg's demands and go get myself checked out at the ER. Shock was a very real possibility now that the adrenaline was gone.

"Jules?"

I looked up. The rest of the team was rising from the table. Slowly, I joined them. Painkillers would also be on my to-do list. My arm was throbbing.

"I'll give you that ride home now." Serg said gently, and steered me from the room. "You sure you don't need a hospital?" He asked as we walked into the parking lot."

"I just want to get some tea and asprin. I'll be fine, Serg." I climbed into the passenger side of his car and leaned my head back.

"About tomorrow," He began, turning the key in the ignition.

"I'm coming in." I said quickly. "Serg, the last time I was shot I just about went out of my mind with nothing to do. The renovations didn't take that much longer to complete. I spent just about every waking moment training, and it still drove me insane.. Please, don't make me stay at home."

"If anyone else had said that to me, Jules, I would have dragged them to the hospital. You're injured, I can't let you go out into the field knowing that, and letting you risk making the injury worse."

"All that would happen would be that I would rip out the stitches. I might be a bit slower to block things with that arm, and since I haven't been to the range yet I don't know how it will affect my shooting. I'll stay in the van, and monitor things with Spike. Please?"

Serg sighed, and we finished the drive to my house in silence. He even walked me up to the front door, and grabbed my arm as I made to go inside.

"You'll be chained to the inside of the van. Take it lightly on the training exercises, and if you rip one stitch, I am going to reconsider this, Jules."

"Thanks Serg." I beamed up at him.

He sighed, and kissed me lightly on the forehead. "Get some sleep, Jules. I expect you at 0730 tomorrow."

I slipped inside, and locked the door and deadbolt behind me, securing the two chains that I had added when there had been a rash of home invasions several months earlier. Emptying my pockets, I made a loop around my house, doublechecking that all the windows were locked tight, and the security bar was across the door to the postage stamp yard.

Satisfied, I returned to the kitchen and swallowed the painkillers before pulling bread from the pantry. Smearing peanutbutter between the two slices, I made my way to my bedroom and lay down.


	9. Aftermath

A banging at the door woke me some hours later. I dragged myself out of bed and staggered to the door, peering out the peephole. Sam stood on my front stoop, his face cast in shadows. With a sigh, I undid the deadbolt and opened it as far as the chains would allow.

"What d'you want, Sam?"I asked through a yawn.

"Brought you dinner. I thought that you might fall asleep as soon as Serg got you home, you looked like you were going to fall asleep during debriefing. You have peanutbutter on your face."

I lifted a hand to my cheek and sighed again. Grouchily, I undid the chains and let Sam in. At least he had brought me food.

"Why are you here?" I locked just the deadbolt this time, and followed Sam as he made his way to the dining table.

"I'm worried about you Jules. You got shot, and had a bomb strapped to your neck. But you're acting like everything is fine."

"Sam…" I let out another sigh.

"No, Jules. Don't… I…" Sam grabbed me into another hug and kissed me.

"Sam, we can't." I protested when he pulled back.

"I don't care Jules. I don't care anymore. If we have to, I'll move to Team Two or something. But I'm not going to just let you slip away from me. You should have let us know that you were involved. It would have changed the tactical situation."

"And would you have been able to drop into the bank, throw smoke bombs and possibly shoot people knowing I was in there?" I didn't pull out of his embrace. It was too comfortable.

"Jules…" Sam sighed. "No, probably. I wouldn't have been able to go in hot. Though not having Serg and Spike say your name aloud was probably a good idea."

"You'd have come running, wouldn't you?" I slipped out of Sam's arms and dug through the take-out bag.

"Of course I would've. I love you, Jules."

I paused in my digging. "What?"

"I love you and I am not about to let your stubbornness get in the way this time. We don't have to tell Serg if you don't want to. If he finds out, I'll move to team two. I love you." Sam's voice was shaking.

"Okay." I said when my voice was working again. "Are you staying tonight, or did you just bring me food?"

"Brought enough for two. I'll even indure your wonderful smoothies tomorrow morning."

"You love my smoothies." I kicked his ankle playfully.

"Are you staying home tomorrow?" Sam helped unload the bag.

"Nope. Got Serg to allow me to come in. I get to be a seat-warmer in the van if we get any hot calls. Other than that, and modified training exercises I have no restrictions."

"Jules…"

"Don't start Sam. I'm going in to work tomorrow, and will keep going even injured as long as Serg lets me. You of all people should know how stir crazy I went the last time, particularly before the stitches came out."

"That's true."

"And tomorrow-"

"We'll take your car. You'll drop me off a few blocks from HQ, go and park and enter in through the front. I'll wait five minutes before stealthing through the rear." Sam grinned. "Unnecessary probably."

"So what?" I took a bite out of a bread stick, knowing that since Sam had agreed to the old tactic, things would be fine.


End file.
